We who with songs beguile your pilgrimage / And swear that Beauty lives though lilies die, / We Poets of the proud old lineage / Who sing to find your hearts, we know not why ... (James Elroy Flecker)

1.11.19

Her Teddy


Her Teddy

She kept her teddy close, I saw,
in that last seven years of illness,
and obviously for much longer:
the same one she’d had as a child.

He was by her big recliner chair
every day, and next to her in bed.
‘When they’re loved,’ she told me, 
‘Teddy Bears come to life.’

So I was horrified when her brother
said they cremated him with her.
Then I remembered. She had explained
that between times they go dormant.

And anyway, I rationalised, 
it’s not the same kind of being alive
as us – not with a functioning body.
The burning wouldn’t, couldn’t have hurt.

Today I just had to go into Vinnie’s op-shop.
I walked past, but I was drawn back.
And I found him: a teddy, smaller than hers
but otherwise matching, even the clothes.

(Did her dear ghost orchestrate this?)
Of course I brought him home!
I placed him with other mementos of her.
But first I gave him a very long hug.



















Sharing at Poets United's Midweek Motif: A MillionYears Howl....

19 comments:

  1. Rosemary,
    This is such a beautiful poem. It appeals to me on so many levels, not least of which is my love for teddy bears and the closeness one can have as a lifetime bond, with such a bear.
    Remembrance can be kept, through tokens like a teddy. Reminders and emotional facilitators...

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  2. Wait on, nobody asked Teddy whether he wanted to go or not.

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    1. Well, I don't know, as I wasn't there when the decision was made (I would have argued against it) – but I suspect they didn't consult him, no. I only hope that, as she had been dead some little time by then, his consciousness had already receded and/or joined hers in the wherever.

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  3. I think she must have put him there, for you. Personally, I hope to be buried with Pup's urn of ashes........so I understand her teddy going with her into the flames, as he had accompanied her everywhere else. Sigh.

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    1. The family at first said they would keep him as an heirloom (I think he might actually have been a valuable antique) but decided later he should go with her. I can see there is a sort of rightness to it. And yes – (a) she was highly telepathic (b) she loved op-shopping (c) since she died I have been directed several times to op-shops which have just what I want; why not also to one that had something I didn't know I wanted?

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  4. Sometimes there is an unseen energy that is all around us but only some can see. You described this well, thank you.

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  5. Just the sort of conundrum this time of year brings up--if a person or thing becomes more alive when loved, how then is death? I think the teddy consented to both journeys--first to the beyond and then back again. I love how you discover each moment in your poem.

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    1. It's a nice thought. The one I just bought is only half the size of the original – yet otherwise uncannily like. And perhaps she doesn't need him now ... and perhaps I do.

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  6. Oh, after reading this I feel like your last comment makes the final, closure for me:
    "...perhaps she doesn't need him now...and perhaps I do."
    That makes the burning feel alright, to me.

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  7. This is such a beautifully evocative write, Rosemary! I had tears in my tears as I read through and reached the final lines. Makes me wonder about unseen energy around us and if our loved ones wander near us..

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  8. My goodness such a sweet poem, luv the teddy bear photo too
    Thanks for dropping by to read mine

    Much💞love

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    1. I think he might be quite an old teddy too. (Made in Germany, the label tells me.)

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  9. Memories, they are our gifts to hold us when those who have passed can no longer do it. I love the teddy bear that is a physical bridge between then and now.

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  10. There is sweetness buried in pain here. I do believe that her ghost orchestrated this.

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  11. This is a beautifully mysterious elegy, with the new bear a most welcome coincidence.

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